


The Ill-Made Knight

by orange_crushed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orange_crushed/pseuds/orange_crushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“The boy thought that there was something wrong with him. All throughout his life— even when he was a great man with the world at his feet— he was to feel this gap: something at the bottom of his heart of which he was aware, and ashamed, but which he did not understand."</i><br/>-T.H. White</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This is how Remus takes the Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ill-Made Knight

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in April of 2006, in honor of the brief but tantalizing glimpse of Dark Mark we got on Severus Snape's arm in Goblet of Fire.

 

 

They smell right. They smell like whiskey and barn doors hanging open in a rainstorm; there’s dirt under their stubby fingernails and real patching on their corduroy sleeves. Two possibilities: they’re cursed, or they’re here out of their own actual belief. 

Either way, he’s fucked.

“Take th’chill off.” They refill the glass at his left elbow with something old and rich. “Drink up.” He does, and follows them to a table in the back of the room. If anyone could hear their conversation, they wouldn’t pay it any attention, after all. A couple of old men and a younger one, filling their bellies with alcohol and complaints. 

“You’re unhappy with your deal, and that’s all right.” They pat his shoulder. Their hands are heavy and real in a way he hadn’t imagined they would be. He expected glamours, and the insubstantiality of false beards and eyelashes. He expected masks. “There’s a lot what are unhappy with the way the world’s turned. It’s gone ugly.”

“Comes of good mixing with bad, if you know what I mean.” They nod together, as one. For a moment he entertains the thought that this is all a hallucination in the moment before he wakes- he’s going to open his eyes and be back in the shed, under two woolen blankets, listening to the rain tear at the roof with little kitten teeth. He blinks. 

“I do know.” he says, trying not to sound unsteady. “They’ll tell you it’s progress, but I don’t know if I see it that way.”

“You’ve got respect for the old ways, that’s clear. Not a lot your age want to accept the truth, but you seem a sight smarter than that. A real useful lad.”

“Well, thanks.” he ducks his head. God, is that a real flush on his neck ? _What the fuck’s going on ?_ He looks into his glass and there’s nothing but the shine of honey, left from the shot. It’s possible he’s getting drunk. “I do want to be helpful, I just- there hasn’t been an opportunity.”

“That so ?” There is a shared look between them, and he has the sudden sensation of looking down, into deep water, and discovering that he has already drowned. “I think we’ve got an answer for that.” They summon the bartender, and buy another round. It tastes like fear and soap in the back of his mouth; he thinks about Sirius, all the ways he tried to describe the taste of alcohol back when he was the only one who drank. 

He never did get it right. It doesn’t taste like fire or amber or sex- it tastes like the blissful end of control, the moment when the rope snaps and you hang in space like a dragonfly, an affront to gravity and desire. It tastes like the moment your bones crack open, because you want them to; you want to hunt in the dark and shed the man you wish you were, and aren’t; the man that everyone hates, who can’t help himself. 

He thinks about leaning forward and Sirius leaning back and saying _we can talk about this later_ ; he wonders if it’s the pride of being rich or being handsome that makes Sirius believe he can stop time. He wonders if anyone believed him when he said what he was planning to do.

They tell him, before he rolls his sleeve up, that he’ll have a place in the new world; separate but equal, a king of dead men. 

This is how Remus takes the Mark.

 

 

"Wiiiiild weekend." James is lying on his coffee table, which is in turn being laid under by Sirius. "Seriously, man, you missed a big one."

Sunlight makes it seem less vulgar than it really is. There are empty bottles of firewhiskey and of regular whiskey; which Sirius has moved on to, feeling it is in some way a completion of his early rebellions. The legs of the sofa are missing. Lily's curtains are askew, though they are trying desperately. Luckily she is visiting her mother, and is not within forty miles of her husband or his co-conspirator. Of the two in question, neither are wearing socks. Both stink. There's a round indent in the carpet where Peter was most likely curled up, although Remus notes he had the good sense to leave before the mopping-up began.

"I know." Remus pulls a folder from his case and stands expectantly before James, who makes no motion towards accepting it. 

"Can't even breathe," he says. "I think my insides are still wet with drink. Lily's not here, or I would move. Or clean. Oh, Merlin, _clean_." He moans in what is meant to be a heart-wrenching fashion, and Remus sets the file down on top of his face. "Hey- uh, hey !"

"I have a schedule." Remus says. "And possibly a job. I've got to go." He turns for the door, and Sirius, who has remembered that he bears a pair of eyes, opens them. He scrambles up, dislodging styrofoam containers of chips and runny vinegar, and a half-dozen bottles.

" _Remus !_ " he says, more anxiously than is probably necessary. His face make an involuntary grimace against the activity. "About the- the thing. About it. We can-"

"No. We can't." There is a nearly unbearable pause, which Remus ends by opening the door. His arm throbs in his sleeve. "It's okay. I'll see you at the meeting." 

"What's the thing ?" James asks Sirius, much later; but Sirius only throws a shoe at his head, and the moment is forgotten.

 

 

It smells like ashes in the village, except for when the wind blows, when it smells of manure. He wonders if the locals notice him, even behind the forty pounds and thirty years of glamour; or if hardship and restless, fickle lords have given them a kind of genetic blindness. When and if the dark lord rises, Remus thinks suddenly, he will probably just tax them in produce, or demand rights to their daughters, and life will go on. 

He is waiting behind the Hound & Hare for a message, when Regulus apparates beside him and jabs him in the arm.

"What's the secret password ?" he says cheerfully. His teeth don't shine in the light of the street lamps; they're dark, like he's been drinking blood.

"Like this is the fucking girl guides." Remus scowls at him. "One day you're going to surprise someone without a sense of humor."

"Git." Regulus holds out a scroll, and Remus palms it quickly, glancing around. It's a wasted glance; they're alone. "That's all you'll need, in there."

"Thanks."

"Hey." When he turns around, the face is too familiar. They both manage to be haughty and handsome and abandoned without a stitch of effort. Remus rolls his eyes. "I hope you appreciate this. It's the real thing. Serious." 

Remus walks away.

Regulus waits in the gutter for a long moment, and rubs his arm like a rabbit's foot. It's a pleasant tingle under his sleeve. "Serious," he repeats, and giggles into the dark.

 

 

The scroll has an address and a date, but the time was smudged out by a careless hand; or else, a hand meant to look careless. Remus doesn't have the heart or the inclination to puzzle it out. He'll go, and muck about in the dark corners as best he can, and try to hear something that might be of use to the Order. He is discovering that the opposition is fiercer but less focused.

His side, or at least the side he joined sober, has the common weakness of strong but indeterminate ideals. They have plans and maps and secret networks, but not a single and overriding ideology that would hold them together in the event of collapse. Collapse meaning, among other things, Dumbledore's possible death.

_Lord_. Remus does not allow this train of thought to continue. _I'm a terrible patriot._

The scroll says the day after tomorrow, so Remus goes where he always goes when his faith is feeling sorely tested; to lay his head in Lily's lap and allow himself to be treated like a human being in her kitchen.

"Remus." She smiles when she sees him, and her round belly and round arms are like a coppery sun breaking over low hills. "You skinny, silly man."

He has never been attracted to Lily, any more than he is attracted to hyacinths and honest civil servants. His tastes run otherwise, and he's grateful. He would not have been able to compete with the open adoration that James offers. 

"I'm going to be out of town for the weekend. Up the coast, probably for three days or so. I'll miss Friday dinner, which is a shame. I was really hoping to see Frank, and catch up."

"Next time." She hands him a bowl of dough, and he flours the table and begins to fold. "I imagine it's not sightseeing; but if I needed to know more, you'd tell me. "

"Yes." He kneads it under his hands, and the dough grows elastic. "How's the little pecan ?"

She lifts his floury hands from his work, and presses them to her apron. "Don't-" he begins, and tries to pull away before the powder streaks her clothes. Lily shakes her head, and holds him to her stomach. There is a fluttering pat against her warmth, like a dog's heartbeat against his ribs. It happens again, and he realizes it's more like a kiss.

"The pecan is good." She says softly. "The pecan's name is Harry."

 

 

Unfortunately, the opposition is also better-funded. He buys a train ticket and actually uses it, sleeping in the car with his jacket rolled underneath his head. They reserved him a room in a shabby hotel, which is better than he's done for himself in years. Remus sleeps that night between borrowed sheets, bought with blood money, and he sleeps very well.

He's going to fuck them in the end, if he possibly can; and so he'll take what small pleasures he can along the way.

When the night arrives he apparates to a marked location, and wanders into Hogsmeade with grey hair and a careful limp. He lingers in a few shop windows, wondering what action could go down in a village practically within sight of the school. For a second he wonders if this was the message; that this was only meant to show him how bold they'd become; and then he wonders if he's here to be killed.

These are not comforting or practical thoughts, so he shambles into the candy shop, buys a packet of cinnamon snaps, and shambles out again. He turns one between his teeth as he walks, and nobody pays any mind when he seats himself behind the bar at the Hog's Head.

He orders a beer, and eventually a sandwich. Time passes. It's close to midnight when the bartender begins to yawn, and Remus thinks of another possibility- that he was sent here to be kept away from something. He rises in sudden distress, and it is at that exact second when a thin and scruffy-haired woman walks in, with an old man in a hood that could only be Dumbledore.

They go upstairs, and Remus gulps down the bottom of his beer.

 

 

He leaves the bar and slips into the alley beside it. There is a drainpipe, which could most likely only be climbed by cockney urchins, or elves. There is a low ledge, which he grasps, and tries not to sound like what he is; a grown man kicking his heels against a wall, to get higher. After a few moments of struggle, he is perched on a ledge below a shuttered window. There are no lights inside.

Remus draws his wand and unlocks the shutter; taking a deep breath, he raises the window as well. The room is dark, but voices are raised at the end of what seems to be a long hall. A rat scurries past him and he nearly loses his balance. He wishes he had engaged in more underage drinking while at school; Sirius would have the interior memorized, and not have fumbled around like an idiot in a wading pool.

Stepping forward, his foot encounters something bulky, lower than a chair; he prods it gently. Something shoots out in his direction and Remus stumbles backwards, striking a chair. A hand knocks his wand away, but he has the presence of mind to claw his knife out of his boot, and jab it in the direction of the arm. There is a hiss in the dark; and a pale shiver of light, in the shape of a wand, illuminates a scowling face.

" _Werewolf_." Severus whispers fiercely.

" _Slug_." Remus spits back, and feels a fool. "Put your fucking wand down."

"So you can slit my throat ?" The point of Remus's blade is pressing beneath the other man's chin. 

"Look- lower your wand and I'll put this away. Alright ?" Severus remains still. "Fuck, _come on_. I'm not planning on bathing in your blood tonight."

"Not a full moon ?"

This is Remus's personal limit for insults this evening, with a sore back and a sore rear and a bruised ego. He presses the point a little further, and when Severus begins to gasp out a surprised curse, knees him in the belly. They tumble over onto the floor, and Remus knees him again, this time in the groin, and drives his freed palm into the other man's nose. There is no satisfying crunch, but Severus rolls over, clutching his face and thigh. "Fuck, hell, _damn_." He chokes out. "Lupin, you fucking _savage_."

"I didn't slit your throat." He stands over Severus and plucks the wand out from between his spasming fingers. "But I will, if you keep it up." He squats in silence for a moment, listening for sounds of discovery, feet in the hall, but there's nothing. Downstairs, the crowd seemed to have picked up, and their shouting can be heard through the walls. It's good enough. "What are you doing here ?"

"You fucking _ass_." Remus stands up and thoughtfully prods him in the side. Severus tries to punch him in the leg; when this fails, he sits up and stares angrily.

"I said, what are you doing here ?"

"I'm in service," Severus frowns, "stupid."

Remus rolls his sleeve up; and even in the dark the whites of Severus's astonished eyes are like little moons. He sizes him up for a long moment, considering what to say. "I received a message," he says haltingly. "Date and place, but the time-"

"-was smudged." Remus nods. "Regulus ?"

"Regulus." It could be a simple error, and it could be everything. There's no reason for the dark lord to send two capable errand boys on the same errand, and have them tumble into each other in the dark. Had it been anyone less even-tempered than Remus, and more quick on the draw than Severus, there would have been blood on the floor. "Do you think-"

"Shh." There's a voice at the end of the hall that's raised the hair on the back of Remus's neck. 

They listen. 

It seeps through the knots in the floorboards, and curls against his neck like a breeze. A voice like bitter leaves, the end of autumn, the click of sharp teeth against prey. It's a woman's voice, and young.

"I hear it." Severus says. They are beyond their quarrel now. Remus hands him back his wand, and goes for his own. They move in silence to crouch behind the door, not daring to breathe, not minding that their shoulders press together; both swimming alone in the warm dark horror of the voice.

 

 

_July_.

They sit in silence at the edge of town, on a stumbling cluster of low rocks ringing the road. In the dusty light of the lamps, Remus can see Severus's fairly poor glamour- a mustache that looks like the speckling on a robin's egg, and poorly-placed wrinkles.

Severus sees him looking and does not look away, merely frowns at him belligerantly until Remus finds a stalk of grass to contemplate. He scrubs away his own glamour with a charmed cloth, and casts a disillusionment around them both. It's less itchy, and there's no one out this late.

Besides, of course, madmen and killers. Oh, well.

"I should take this information to our lord." Severus says quietly, but doesn't rise. "I imagine he'll want to begin the search."

"Most likely."

"Will you report ?"

"You just said that you would." Remus lies back onto the grass, and feels it poke companionably at the weave of his jacket. "I'd only be saying the same thing."

"You've never faced him." Severus says, and Remus doesn't reply. "You've never even faced him, and you call yourself a servant."

"I'm not a servant." he sighs. "I'm a soldier in a glorious revolution. Make your report. And if you see Regulus... actually, if you see Regulus, don't say anything."

"You think he meant for us to kill one another."

"I think he has some explaining to do. Yes."

"We should slit his throat." Severus laughs, and when Remus turns to look at him, he's smiling. They don't say much more. Remus apparates to his hotel room, and drinks half a bottle of whiskey to fall asleep without hearing the voice at his elbow. Two days later, he crawls to Lily's door. When she opens it, he asks her when she's due.

"July." she says happily, and he falls onto her feet.

 

 

"Did you get the job ?" James asks, before the meeting begins. Remus stares at him for a moment, and sees Severus's wide eyes in the dark.

"Uh, no." He passes a sad smile. "No. They wanted someone older, I think. Next time."

The Order is energized with the news of the prophesy. They've got a few likely candidates, what with the thrice-defying. Lily's new status as a possibility has her both frightened and enraged, mostly because she is removed from duty and ordered to be careful.

"Careful, _Merlin_." she snorts. "We're at war, aren't we ? I'm hardly the weakest of the lot, and you'll all need me. I'm not going into hiding, and I'm not giving up my assignments." James begs her and Dumbledore has a word, and she ignores them equally. Remus is quiet about it, though he encourages her to be on guard. He says nothing about that night to anyone, and waits for Dumbledore to break the news himself. 

"Sir- Albus," he corrects himself, feeling his heart in his throat, "how are we to know whether or not the enemy is aware of this ?"

"We know." The old man twinkles at him, and Remus is once again a twelve-year-old boy. "The enemy is aware."

He has not yet gathered the courage to speak, to tell them what he's done. Sirius might suspect, if Sirius could go beyond the thought that Remus is stand-offish and silent because of what was said. Remus wonders if it's vanity or hope, and decides that he doesn't care. But the desperate suggestion of taking the mark, of becoming a double agent, was made deep in the hold of drink. He remembers staggering out behind the bar and shouting at Sirius; and probably Peter, though he can't recall; some nonsense about how they'd never believe he did it for them, that they'd never even notice.

He's not sure anymore whether or not he did it for them. But they haven't noticed, and he finds that this relieves him a little. They're safer that way, and they won't try to come to his rescue if everything gets screwed beyond repair.

"Are you hungry ?" Sirius says, stubbing out a cigarette. "We could go somewhere, and eat. No talking, if that's what you want." He has folded up his Order report and burnt it with his lighter, and he smells like dirty parchment. Remus tries to say no, and finds that it's stuck in his throat.

"I'm hungry." 

They eat in the back corner of the restaurant, Sirius swiping chips from his plate and ordering a second round of beer. They talk a little, mostly about Lily and the baby, and James painting his own shoes by accident while trying to decorate the nursery. Sirius does a charming imitation with a fork as the paintbrush. "I'm sorry I missed it." Remus says absently, and chews on the end of a roll.

"Yeah, well. You've been looking for work, I know."

"Don't."

"I know you hate to hear it, but it's not like the money's doing any good, just sitting there. You do all this shit for the Order, you run up and down the countryside, with goddam _holes_ in your goddam _shoes_."

" _Sirius_." he says angrily, and Sirius's mouth snaps shut. "I don't need your pity."

"It's not pity, you _stupid fucking ass_. I'm trying to help you, because I give a shit about you, alright ? Can you accept that ? Can you at least hear me out ?" He is clenching a napkin in his hand, and mangling it badly. Remus doesn't look at him.

"Yeah."

"Okay." He slides back into his chair, and lets the napkin go. It flutters over the side of the table, and is forgotten. "Hey. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." Remus nods. "What I was going to say is, there's a lot of space in the flat. So much space, it's creepy. The mice have an orchestra." He grins, and his voice isn't gentle or sad, just honest. "You could take a couple of rooms and pay for them, and help with the bills when you can. I'm not taking you on as a charity case, you bastard."

"Yeah." He thinks about living with Sirius, coming home to the ruined carpet and the clutter of muggle magazines, and the questions about how his day's been. And he thinks about leaning forward, and Sirius leaning back. "I- I don't think it would work. But thanks."

"If it's about the thing, forget it. It's not like that. We're friends, dammit." Sirius swirls his beer a little, and takes a gulp. "We'll always be friends. Nothing is different."

_Everything is different_ , Remus wants to say. Instead, he does the absolutely unthinkable, and asks when he can bring his stuff around.

 

 

After a while, if a man makes himself accessible to the devil, the devil will call.

The low burn in his arm becomes a stabbing pain in the middle of the night, which he can no longer ignore. So far he's managed to keep the contact to a minimum, going through Regulus or Parkinson as necessary. But apparently the game is over.

He's not certain whether he apparates or he's taken when he grasps his wand, but the sensation leaves him dizzy and sick. He doesn't vomit; reaching for the wall beside him, he manages to stand. There are two men, hooded and masked, standing near him in a long dark corridor. It's an unremarkable passage in every way, naturally, and at one end there is a door. He imagines that this leads to a world of unpleasantness.

The handle is within his reach when a wave of fear strikes him, and he wakes up. Remus realizes, suddenly and with abrubt clarity, how wretchedly unprepared he is. _A fucking legilimens, this is the hole you've dug for yourself_. He's not going to withstand it, or be able to bluff this one out. The dark lord will know him; he'll see everything, his fondness for eggs benedict, his adoration of Lily, his longing for Sirius, his fears for the future, his fears of himself.

It is the end.

"You can't hide anything." A voice at his elbow, no louder than the intake of a gentle breath. "You can't hide it, but you can change it. If you're jealous, if you're scared, use it. If you love them, remember a time that you hated them. Be proud of your faults and your sins. _Use them_." The mask slips away for an instant, and Remus sees a strand of black hair. "Now get in there, Lupin, you fool."

The door opens. Beside the fire, which does not burn, but shiver; there's a high-backed chair with a shadow in it. There's a gash where the nose ought to be; altogether it's a hideous face, with handsome red eyes like a pet rabbit's. 

Remus thinks about rejection, and when that thought stutters he thinks about school, and the night that Sirius failed him. He thinks about the change, and the instant when his sorrow turns to bitter hate and hunger.

"My lord." he says, and bows.

 

 

 

Afterwards, the dark lord rises from the chair and takes his wrist; at the point where a scar curves underneath the cuff and disappears into the flesh of his arm.

"You're a magnificent creature." It says. "Blood I promise you, and blood you'll have. Be patient."

"I will, my lord."

"Go now."

He does not go any faster han he is supposed to, and even remembers to nod at the masked guards as he makes his retreat. There's a portkey hanging on a hook, and it hurries him to an open graveyard. Remus turns to face a stone rising out of a low hill, and spends a long second reading the name. _Tom Riddle_.

_The devil called_ , he thinks, _and I came to heel_. He apparates to the end of his street, and throws up in a stranger's dumpster. He makes it to his doorway and fumbles with the key, only to find that it will not fit inside the lock. It is, in fact, as of last week, the wrong house.

"Oh, God. Sirius." He's hardly unpacked. Remus lets himself slide down the door frame until he's slumped against the mat. There are mice somewhere nearby, scurrying on pointed feet, though they don't come into view. Eventually he will have to get up, go home, take a shower, and be a man again.

Eventually, he does.

 

 

It's three days since the last full moon, and the morning sun slants through the window so forcefully that Remus considers asking it to stir his tea for him.

"If you've got the energy," he nods in the direction of the curtains, "please, be my guest." He adds a lump of sugar, reflects, and adds a second. The paper lies open in his lap.

He spends a little time circling classified ads, and goes so far as to place a couple of telephone calls, with no results. The Prophet yields nothing as well. Which is fine. His notes are usually returned with _not hiring_ or _not hiring werewolves_ scrawled on them, anyway.

Sirius rises at eleven; by then, Remus has already gone. He's left eggs and bacon in the chilled pantry as a kind of courtesy. They don't have a refrigerator because of Sirius's inexplicable fear of being trapped inside.

"You know, you could get trapped in the pantry just as easily. It's got a latch." Remus once pointed out. "And you can always kick the door open from the inside, _if_ you'd even fit."

"No, I couldn't." Sirius had answered, clinging to his sleeve. "Because I'd already have frozen to death. And- are you calling me fat ? Fatty ?"

It's this kind of exchange that makes everything worthwhile.

Today he is supposed to be in line at a temp agency, but instead he meets Parkinson and watches him translate an intercepted Order message. He'd feel bad about it, except that he sent the false note in the first place.

"Thursday, eight sharp."

"Are you sure ?"

"Of course I'm bloody sure." Parkinson snaps. "Thursday, eight sharp. This here, the thing that looks like a mother sheep with a bunch of lambs around ? It's a map. Of Bath. That's city center, there's the river, and there's the meeting point."

"I still see lambs." Remus says, trying for dim. Parkinson taps it with his wand and the figures rearrange themselves ever so slightly. "Oh, hells. That's incredible. Well, good work. Can I come along ?"

"I'll think about it." 

Remus sends another note that evening, to Dumbledore, from a public owl at the post office on Diagon Alley. The return address is marked from a neighborhood in Bath. _Thursday, eight sharp, a bunch of fools in masks and capes will expect to see lambs to the slaughter here. Act surprised. Don't let on that it's a trap; but for God's sake, make sure it is one._

The day leaves him feeling terribly satisfied with himself; when he comes home to Sirius moaning from hunger and sloth, he's cheery enough to fix broiled steak and potatoes. Everything is delicious.

Sirius turns the wireless on after supper, and the windows are left open, letting in the sounds of neighborhood kids hitting one another and falling perilously in love.

 

 

They are being chased across the river; Parkinson grabs onto his robe and cries out when he stumbles into the deep. 

" _Lupin_ !" he hisses. "Lupin, help me!" Remus slogs over to his side and dutifully paddles him along, keeping their heads just above water. They drag each other into the tall grass along the bank and lie still. "Do you think they saw us ?"

A car is burning by the side of the road, and a corner of the railway station is blackened. There are screams and shouts, and the faint silvery smell of obliviates being doled out fairly sloppily. 

"No." Remus says honestly. "I think they're all back there." Parkinson shakes his stubby head and scowls.

"Fucking Order. Fucking mess, this all is. We ought to have killed them instead of trying to take the girl." He turns his head to find that Remus is staring at him with something like rage ill-contained in his eyes. "What ?"

" _Stupefy_." Parkinson drops backwards into the mud. " _Petrificus totalis_. May I add, you piece of shit, _silencio_."

He watches a couple of junior aurors chasing after men in black robes, clinging to their masks as they disapparate. It looks like a halloween carnival. He doesn't think that anyone got hurt, or at least anyone that he cares about. 

On his way across the bank, he sends up a flare that will lead them to Parkinson; Parkinson will do him the favor of staying put until he's discovered. Remus doesn't know what he knows, how much or how little, but he figures it ought to be more than they've got.

There's a rustle in the bushes. He expects Sirius, who often transforms in the middle of a fight from sheer adrenaline; or even an auror who fell in and floated across. It isn't either of those.

It's Regulus.

"I knew it." he sighs triumphantly. "I knew it. _Avada_ -"

"- _kedavra_." Severus finishes for him; and Regulus drops like a stone at Remus's feet.

 

 

_Sirius, I've done something horrible, I've ruined everything_.

"How do you think he'd take it ?" Severus sneers at him. "They're blood. He's a Black."

"He'd understand."

"Be serious." He unlocks the door and shoves Remus none-too-gently to get him inside. "He'd fly into a rage and kill you, and me; or you'd kill him in self-defense. Really, I'd prefer that."

Remus is shivering wet, and hardly there. It was Severus who dragged him down the road and convinced him to apparate here, somewhere that looked and smelled like a shabby row house. Which it quite probably was. There was a sideboard with a clutter of beakers and vials, and a row of potted plants along a filthy window.

"This is your house." Remus says suddenly. "This is where you live."

"Do very well on your NEWTS, did you ?" Severus flings aside a small handful of books and tosses a gritty towel at him. "Here, use this. Don't let yourself drip on the papers."

"You killed Regulus." he continued. "You're a spy."

"Did you accidentally stupefy _yourself_ ? While your revision of the day's events is accurate, it's hardly useful."

"Oh, shut up." Remus turned on him, and lacking any meaningful gestures, threw the towel into his face. "You fucking killed him, and I'm grateful because it saved my life, but I'm also really fucking _surprised_ , alright ? And your towel smells like animal shit."

Severus said nothing, but disappeared into a room even darker than the first, and threw back a clean sheet.

"Use this, then." he said, and shut a door between them.

 

 

Remus dried himself as best he could, and laid out his heavy woolen robe over the back of a kitchen chair. There was silence from the other room. Slowly but surely, his head nodded into his hands.

After a while, he grew tired of seeing Regulus's dead face behind the backs of his eyelids, and rooted around for something to read. _Uses of Wormwood_. _Potion Theory_. A print article debating the effectiveness of chopping versus grating. Tiresome stuff. There was also, most surprisingly, a short stack of novels underneath the kitchen sink. Nine were wizard-penned, and two were muggle.

"I'll thank you not to disturb the merchandise." Severus said, from the doorway. His hair was tied to the back of his neck with a string, and his wand was jammed into a trouser pocket. He looked surprisingly human.

"Sorry." He gave a meaningful look towards the kettle. "Do you think-"

"Of course. I'd forgotten this was a _party_." He frowned, but stomped over to the tap and filled the kettle anyway. Remus watched him.

"You can't hide it, but you can change it." he says. "Do you remember telling me that ?" Severus puts his hands on the counter, and does not turn around. 

"Yes."

"Saved my fucking neck." Remus sighs and scratches at the area in question. "Which I'm sure you know." 

"Yes." 

"How did you know- what I was doing ? That I wasn't just a werewolf with an axe to grind ?"

"Right, Remus Lupin, ex-prefect, joining up with the Death Eaters. And all the years of studious decency a sham. A genius move, really." Severus slams the kettle down and walks to the table, plucking Remus's robe up from the chair as he goes. "You can leave now. It's almost morning, and with any luck no one will be watching your door." 

"Leave ?"

"Yes, leave." He frowns again, and holds out the robe. "It's a shame your hearing's so bad."

"It's a shame you're such a terrible host." Remus snatches the robe from his hands and stands up. He has the uncomfortable sensation of being eye-to-eye. He's slightly taller than Severus, though his posture is bad; _and besides_ , he thinks, _Severus is usually drawing himself up to his full height with fury_. "And such an ass about gratitude."

"I'm not an ass." he retorts, in a rare show of dullness. 

"You're an ass." Remus repeats firmly; and Severus takes the opportunity to kiss him furiously on the mouth.

 

 

They fall together some distance.

Remus knows that at some point he set his hand on the stove and yanked it back again, because in the morning there is a little moon-shaped blister on the inside of his left hand. He looks down at Severus, who is sleeping with his chin jutted against Remus's elbow. He looks relaxed, which is somehow stranger to witness than to remember what has happened. 

On an impulse, he tucks a stray hair behind the other man's ear, and Severus bares his teeth without waking. For all that they are lying together, his arms are crossed against his chest and his knees are tucked into his middle. Remus wonders if he sleeps like this when he's alone.

He's never slept beside Sirius, but he is quite sure that he'd awaken with a foot shoved up his nose. The thought doesn't bring him any pleasure or pain. Severus grunts softly and sticks his forehead into Remus's arm, and then wakes with a sudden jolt. Remus does not bother to tell him good morning; just smiles and rolls onto his side, and shuts his eyes.

"You should go." Severus says, a little coldly.

"I will." 

Ten minutes pass, give or take; and Severus curls into the warmth of his back.

 

 

They don't say much after rising; Remus dresses in silence and goes to the kitchen. He tries to make something to eat, and can't find a decent pan. When Severus catches him at it, he mutters something horrible under his breath and once again suggests that Remus should depart. 

"Fine." he says, a little angry. "I'd have left last night, if I knew you were so anxious to be rid of me."

"Fuck you, Lupin."

"No, thanks." Remus ties his shoes and stuffs his socks into the hood of his robe. "I think there's been enough of that going around." It seems like it will elevate into shouting until an owl taps at the windowsill. Severus opens the latch and takes the scroll from between its claws with a certain amount of delicacy. 

"This is private." he looks up at Remus, who flushes. "If you cou-"

"I'm going." Remus mutters, and slams the door. He realizes, at the intersection, that he hasn't the slightest idea in the world where he is. Cursing, he thinks intensely about his curtains, and lack of refrigerator, and apparates to the right apartment.

Sirius, strangely, is not in bed, although it's only a quarter after eight. Remus ignores it, and turns on the record player so loud that it hurts his ears. He eats three slices of toast and four sausages and drinks his orange juice like an angry sailor, pacing. He is furious, and not quite certain why; whether it be sleeping with Severus, arguing afterwards, or the simple fact that he's never before had sex with anyone who didn't appreciate it. Or maybe he really is losing his goddam mind, and he's just angry that it wasn't Sirius, or angry that Regulus-

Regulus.

Remus throws on a different pair of pants and tosses his hair around enough to look respectable and runs like hell to James's cottage. He tries the front door and feels the magic crackling around the corners, and realizes that the message taped to his bedpost might not have been another joke from Sirius.

"Fawkes." he says clearly, and the magic lessens enough for him to use the doorhandle. Around James's coffeetable are Lily and James, Sirius, Peter, Minerva, Frank, Alice, and Albus. They look at him with red-rimmed eyes. He feels like the murderer at a victim's funeral, and tries to speak, but Lily speaks first from within the circle of James's arms.

"It's Harry." she says. "It's Harry they want."

"My brother's dead." Sirius adds dully.

"Where were you last night, mate ?" Peter pipes up suddenly. Everyone looks at him, and then at Remus, and a faint shadow crosses over the sun. "I mean, we would have liked to tell you, you know, that we got one of them."

"One of them ?"

"A Death Eater." James clarifies. "Evan Parkinson, actually. We found him stupefied by the riverbank, and last night he spilled about- the thing. The July thing." Remus realizes that the lump in his throat is also present in James's, and that he is trying hard not to crack in front of his wife.

"Also, my brother's dead." Sirius says again. And lays his head down on the coffee table. They all look at Remus, curious and expectant, though he's no idea what to say, how to help it, how to fix it.

"I don't- I don't know." he says at last, stupidly. "Oh. I'm so sorry. Sirius, I'm so sorry. Lily- what will you do ?" He looks at Dumbledore. "What will we do ?"

"We'll _fight_." Minerva tosses her head. "By God."

 

 

He helps Lily pack, although she admits that she can't tell him where they're going. It's alright; only Dumbledore will know, and Dumbledore has probably kept more secrets than Remus has forgotten. It makes sense.

"Should I bring this ?" she asks, holding a moss-green sweater against her chest. 

"If your hideout's in the Caribbean, then no." he says, mock-serious. She laughs, and tosses it into the duffel. "You're going to Cardiff, as I suspected !"

"Remus." She takes his hand, and sits beside him. "Don't guess. I don't want you to guess, and I don't want you to know. It'd put you in danger."

"I'm already in danger." 

They drag the bags downstairs, where James is drawing a chalk circle on the carpet. 

"It's more powerful than a portkey, and leaves no trace behind. Anyone who tries to follow us will get split about three ways, and mailed back to their auntie." James says proudly. Lily kisses him on the cheek.

"Oh ! Love, can you get my aloe ? It's in the kitchen, on the windowsill. I don't want it to dry out, and I can't do an effective moisture charm without it." When he hurries into the other room, Lily turns to Remus with a fierce expression. " _Listen_. Peter says everybody's got secrets now, and here's mine. I trust you, Remus. I have always trusted you, and I always will. Take this." Into his hands she thrusts a lock of hair, tied with gold thread. "Cut it in half, and it'll bring you to me. Only once, and only one way. I'm selfish, and sometimes I need your help. Remus-" she smiled, sadly. "You always do the right thing."

"I don't- I can't take this."

"It doesn't matter." she says, and when James returns with the plant in his hands, they gather their bags in the circle and speak the words. They have time to smile at Remus, and raise their hands together, and then they're gone.

Her red hair is soft in the palm of his hand.

 

 

If he were a smarter man, he'd stay away. Let Sirius sleep on the couch or the balcony, flip channels endlessly on the television set, and stare at the ceiling until the morning. But he's weak, and he knows that he deserves Sirius's misery; if only for stumbling into a mess he couldn't clean up, and being too fucking obvious.

"Hey." he sets down a paper bag of beer and curries, and Sirius looks at him with something like interest. "I thought we'd do some eating and drinking, you know, the necessaries." A sheepish half-smile dawns in Sirius's face.

"I've been strange." he says simply. "I, uh. Reg was younger than me, I guess. I didn't expect- I didn't expect this."

"It's okay."

"I know what he was. I know. I've seen- I know he probably did terrible things. He was always more impressed with Bella than me. I just-"

"Sirius." Remus reaches out and Sirius lets his head fall against the outstretched hand. He finds himself stroking the shaggy black hair. "It's okay. He was your brother. It's okay."

"Yeah." he says and sinks forward, into Remus's chest. They sit like that for a while, Sirius's quiet breathing condensing on his chest; and then they drink some beer.

 

 

 

The silence in James and Lily's absence is deafening. The moons become increasingly worse; until Remus can no longer rely on sedatives and manacles, and instead has Sirius charm him into stupefication. The whole summer takes on a waiting pause; Remus can feel the days hinge on the lynchpin of departure. Daily he turns over her hair in his hands and tucks it deeper into the fold of his pocket, willing himself to forget. He's afraid to be afraid, of the merest shadow of betrayal. He becomes thirsty for news, and against his better judgement he tracks down the only person who shares his unfortunate position.

"There's no news." Severus says shortly. "None at all. The dark lord isn't famous for biding his time, so I imagine there's something we don't know."

"Something we- you must be joking. There isn't a single thing we _do_ know."

"Thank you so much for clarifying."

"I can't take the credit; not when you're being so classically _obtuse_." Remus throws his napkin down and stands. "When you've got something more than _we know we don't know_ , try and pass it along. I won't come looking for you again." He stalks out; and Severus wastes a few moments fuming before tossing a handful of coins onto the table and following after him.

Stopped traffic slows Remus's furious exit just enough to be caught, several blocks from the shabby cafe. When it's clear that Severus won't be shaken, he whirls around and fixes him with a glare. "Are you trying to make a point ?"

"No." he snaps. "I hadn't thought it out past this." His face is so serious and his frown so determined that the humor is unavoidable. Remus laughs, and puts a hand over his eyes.

"I lost my temper." He wipes his forehead with the end of his sleeve, leaving a glossy stain on his cuff. "It's this heat, and being so completely in the dark. I feel like a madman."

"If it's any consolation," the corner of Severus's mouth twitches upwards, ever so slightly, "you are one."

 

 

"What is all of this ?" Remus makes a sweeping gesture across the table, which is covered in precise notes, punctuated by angry scribbling and sums. Severus glances at the mess, and makes a dismissive huff. He is watering a series of potted ferns and succulents from a jug with a cracked handle, and spilling the contents down his arm. He does not seem to mind.

"It was something Regulus put me onto, the idiot. He couldn't keep his mouth shut about the great honor the dark lord had done him. Checking up on a moldering cave." He notices something in Remus's face that is very close to pain, and continues more quickly. "Are you familiar with the concept of a horcrux ?"

"No."

"It's essentially a backup- a fragment of the soul is put into an inanimate object; which then must be destroyed along with the original soul."

"A shot at immortality ?"

"More or less." Severus sets down the jug, and flips a few pages until he's found what he's looking for. "It's vital to keep those objects safe. See, here- in that cave there's a basin, filled with poison. At the bottom is an object, fairly small I'd say. Probably a ring or a medal, something ornamental. What I'm working on is an elixir to negate the poison, so the object can be retrieved, and destroyed."

"How could you possibly know where to start ?"

"Regulus, again. The silly ass brought a vial of it with him after his last trip. He suggested we use it to turn some muggles mad." Severus flashes a shallow grin. "His enthusiasm was, at times, overflowing." Remus nods and gathers the notes back into their binding. 

"You've spent a lot of time on this."

"I believe it will be important."

"Do you need any help ?"

"When I do," Severus says, taking the papers from his hands, "I'll come to you." 

 

 

 

One day there is an untraceable letter which arrives through the chimney; and when it flutters into Remus's lap it smells of soot and roses. When Sirius comes home they read it again and again and look at each other with wonder, like newborns.

_Harry James Potter, 7 pounds 3 ounces_ , it reads. _Father's hair, my eyes, littlest fingers; wish you could see._

He clutches it to his chest and cries in fear and joy. It is July the thirty-first.

 

 

The fall comes, and the world settles into its waiting. There's a stillness that's untouched by sorrow still, and the leaves hang onto the trees longer than they should; leaving the world red and gold and orange in brilliant shades. It's the kind of weather that makes Remus go about without a jacket, and lie in the side of the hill with his tie undone and his eyes closed.

Once in a while, he sees Severus and trades bits and pieces of information; but mostly they chop redroot in companiable silence. By the end of September they have found the answer.

It proves difficult, but not impossible, to enter the cave and cross the lake; and when Remus sees the bodies floating in the water, he nearly loses what control he's carried thus far.

"Don't touch the water." Severus holds onto his wrist and speaks firmly. "Don't touch the water, and they won't stir." He obeys. They take turns drinking the poison and passing the jug of antidote back and forth; several times they vomit from sheer volume. They are sweating and haggard when they lift a sparkling locket from the bottom of the cup. 

It is a supremely lovely piece of craftsmanship, delicately edged, set with garnets and strung on a length of stout gold chain. It winks at Remus ever so slightly, and he feels a sudden shiver of malice in the twinkling stones.

"Here- give me the other one." He takes the replacement from Severus, a cheap music box with a tight seal. It is meant to hold their message of defiance, which Remus disapproved of; but it had been Severus's idea from the beginning, and there was no arguing now. Except. Remus fumbled in his pocket for a moment, and unlatched the music box. Severus looked at him curiously, but let him unroll the parchment and scratch three letters in pencil at the bottom. "It's so," he begins, and falters. "I don't mean to take your credit. But it would be nice- for him to be able to believe-"

"Put it in the basin." Severus wraps the locket in a scrap of linen, and turns for the boat. "And let's get the hell out of here."

 

 

For reasons that could probably be credited to the inferi or the vomiting, neither of them can bear the thought of being alone that evening; or likewise admit to such a feeling. Remus suggests they stop at a particularly grimy pub, where the prices are reasonable enough for a third and fourth round. After that Severus insists that they can stand for a little more research; so half-drunk they break into a bookshop in Diagon Alley and stumble back out without taking anything. 

They are back at Severus's increasingly cluttered building by midnight, splitting a box of crackers and not saying much at all. It is at this point obvious that Remus is not particularly keen to leave, and more strangely Severus has made no moves to kick him off of the premises.

Remus chews thoughtfully and and leans back in the chair, folding one leg across his knee.

"I'm curious." He smiles at Severus, who seems to be humoring him. "I'd mistaken you for an ideologue."

"Close. I'm a mudblood." Severus says. It takes physical effort on Remus's part to keep his jaw from dropping.

"I- uh. That's a horrible word, you know."

"I am fully aware."

"But, in school-"

"I was good at finishing homework, and running errands. And the occasional distraction. When we got out of school they couldn't be seen with me." Remus can remember the first time they all went out, after Peter's new job clerking at the Ministry came through. _I have to be a little more careful- Remus, mate, you understand. The right sort of people move up, and they've got all sorts of rules._ "When they needed me again, they called."

"Bugger them." he says offhandedly, sounding a little like the advice Sirius passed along to him. Severus looks at him sideways, with a face like a satisfied cat.

"They'll be extremely suprised at what a mudblood can accomplish." He takes another cracker, and is flush enough with drink to smile when Remus laughs out loud.

They sleep together that night, with a little more care and a great deal less frenzy. It's Remus who leans across the ratty sofa and breathes into Severus's neck. At the instant when Severus seems about to pull away and shut off, Remus runs his teeth against his collarbone, and they fold into one another like the edges of a wave.

In the morning they lie awake for a while, testing their new boundaries in the mute sunlight. When Remus leaves, there isn't a fight; and there isn't a kiss, either.

It's something.

 

 

There is something off in the way that Sirius has been looking at him; when their eyes meet he looks away. It's bad enough when they're just grocery shopping; Sirius wearing a head of cabbage as a hat, and falling flat at jokes; but over dinner it becomes nearly unbearable. Remus doesn't have the energy to pry, so he's surprised when Sirius volunteers a thought.

"Peter says," he pauses to take another mouthful of ham, "that we have- a kind of leak."

"What, really ?" Remus glances at the bathroom with evident relief. "I hadn't noticed."

"Not- don't be so dense. A leak. A spy."

He can feel his blood thickening with a kind of creeping fear. He takes another bite before responding, and tries to keep it out of his voice. He knows he's got nothing to be ashamed of- he hasn't hurt, only helped. But at first they simply wouldn't understand.

"Has anything happened ?"

"Not really, just here and there. Peter says they expected us in a couple of places we'd thought should be a surprise." Remus looks up to find Sirius staring at him with a helpless face. "Remus- you can tell me anything you know. You're gone so often, and Dumbledore is always hiding the right hand from the left and all that rubbish. I just- I need to know. I need to know what's going on."

"I honestly don't know." he says. "I wish that I did." And he does. He wishes very badly to understand why he's done what he's done, and where he fits as a piece of the endless puzzle. A thought strikes him, one too terrible to even comprehend. 

A leak just small enough to pass unnoticed. 

When Sirius is in bed, fast asleep and _forgive me_ under the subtle influence of charmed oblivion, Remus throws on a heavy cloak and runs through the street. At first he is too hysterical to think of apparating; he runs to burn off the excess, and after nearly a mile he ducks into an alley and disappears. He picks his way to Severus's house using jumbles of routes already travelled, suddenly wary of a tail. At the door he shivers and idles and finally rings the bell, hands clenched into fists.

"Remus." The door opens, and Severus is caught for a moment off of his guard. He smiles warily. "You're- unexpected."

"I have to know if it's you." he says. Remus is shaking. "I have to know if it's you, and you've been using me, and I've made a horrible mistake." Severus freezes, and the lines of his face become unpleasant to behold.

"That's what you think, then." He begins to shut the door, and Remus throws himself against it.

"No, I don't." he says. "I don't believe it. I should believe it, I'm meant to believe it. You took the prophesy to the dark lord, but everything else has been- you've never-"

"Took the- I did no such thing." Severus was taken aback. "His spies got it elsewhere. It was never passed along by me."

"You-"

"It sounded convincing, I know. I was surprised, and I wanted to be sure. About you."

"Then who else ?" His head is spinning too fast to focus. It settles on Severus, on Sirius, on Lily and Lily's red hair, sleeping safe in his pocket. _I haven't betrayed them, I haven't_. "Are you lying ? You can't be lying- who could have ? Who would-"

His nails scrape against the brick, and crack along the edges. It sounds like- it sounds like something that is so close. Just out of his reach is the answer, the secret.

The _secret_.

"Remus ?"

"We've got to go, _now_." He punctuates the last word by dragging Severus forward by his collar. Severus doesn't hesitate, except to snatch his wand off of the shelf by the door; and they apparate together, Remus's hand still clutching the fabric of his shirt.

 

 

 

He wakes Sirius up under a full-body bind, which is surely uncomfortable but the best way he can think of to keep all hell from breaking loose. Sirius smiles at him groggily, then his eyes open wide and he begins to struggle as best a man can, above the neck.

"Remus- I can't-"

"I know." he says, as calmly as he can. "I have to tell you the truth, and I need you to listen before you do anything rash."

"Rash ?" He bites down on the top of his sheet and shakes it like a terrier. "Thaf's whaf I'm goinb to do fo you. _Lef me go_."

"I've been spying for the Order. Spying on- the other side. I've been sending notes to Dumbledore about where they'll be, little things like that. I meant to do more, I just didn't know how." Sirius does not look particularly dumbstruck.

"It explains a lot." he says resignedly, spitting out the sheet. "I mean, forgive me for this, but I half-expected you to say that you'd-" his voice splits into several different pieces as Severus leans forward in the chair, where he has been sitting silently. " _REMUS, BEHIND YOU !_ " Remus turns and glances at Severus, who shrugs.

"This is the hardest part." He puts a reassuring hand on Sirius, who looks less reassured than ferocious. "Severus is a spy. For us," he adds, noting the murderous look. "We've worked together for a while, I guess. Trying to destroy these things- do you know what a horcrux is ?"

"Yes." Sirius says. "Now wake up. You're under fucking _imperius_." He sounds oddly close to tears. "Okay ? You're under a fucking spell, because this can't be happening."

"It is." Severus cuts in.

" _You_ keep your fucking mouth shut. Remus, please."

"I'm not under anything. I need you to trust me. Sirius-" he pleads. "I need you to trust me. And I need you to focus for a minute. Where is Peter ?"

"Peter ?" Sirius shakes his head. "He's- he went to check on them." His face flushes slightly, and his voice falters.

"On who ?"

"On them." He looks away. "It's not that we suspected anything. You were just never around." Frowning, he glances down at his body beneath the sheet. "Can you let me up now ?"

"James and Lily. He's gone to check on James and Lily." Remus sits back and stares into the wall, as if seeing something far beyond it. "That's impossible."

"No, not really." 

_Peter says everybody's got secrets now._ The scurrying of tiny feet in the alley. _Where've you been, mate ?_

" _Go_." Remus says, and Sirius feels his arms stirring. "Go, get up, get up, _come on_. He runs out into the dining room and starts throwing around any clothing he can find. Sirius stands, wobbling slightly, and casts a dark look at Severus. " _COME ON_ !" The sound of Remus screaming startles them both.

He is standing in the doorway with a lock of red hair and a pair of scissors. "Come with me." 

"Remus, I don't-"

" _Jesus Christ, Sirius, come with me_ !" he shouts. "Grab onto me ! Both of you !"

Instinctively they reach for him, and he snips the few threads in his hand. There is a wash of light and a spread of darkness beyond it; and then they are gone.

 

 

Remus is dreaming.

In the dream he has a hole where his heart ought to be; but Sirius is there to reassure him. _It's the wolf, mate. Jumped right out of you and ran down the road like a rabbit._ Remus doesn't believe him, and instead goes in search of Lily, who is chopping onions and mandrake together. Her mouth is shut with a lock and key.

He expects to wake into darkness, but he wakes instead into a wash of green light. There's no sound except the roar of vertigo in his ears. He's doesn't know how far he's gone, or where- there's only the brilliance of the light and the rapid beat of his own pulse.

There's time enough for a choice. He is already falling, and he can fall forward into the light, or backwards into the gentle darkness. His heart beats again and he has already turned his heel- he pushes off gently and goes steadily forward.

He takes it in the center of his chest, the center of his heart.

On the ground his eyes roll back into his head; he sees everything in silent motion, slowly, as they shut. Lily, her arms and head bowed into her baby; Sirius and Severus with their wands outstretched. They move perfectly together as a single eye and arm and throat.

And then, rest. 

 

 

They don't find Peter, not that night. The owls go out anyway, all white as summer clouds, and the bells ring. There's dancing in the streets while Lily sleeps in James's hospital bed, against the bandaged stump where his arm once was, with the baby cradled between them.

They live, they breathe. They wait for him to wake up.

Severus is sleeping in a chair by the door, with his arm jammed underneath his head like an angry comma. That he's stayed at all is remarkable, considering the dagger stares of Sirius from the wing chair beside the bed. They've staked out territory and paced the edges, and occasionally resorted to bitter cursing; but no major bodily harm. It is one of the smaller miracles.

The larger miracle, of course, is Remus. Though he would be ashamed to hear it, the healers tell them that whatever it is he carries inside for twenty-odd days of the month, it was strong enough to carry him for a stretch. They will never tell him that, any of them, not in so many words. It is Lily who finds a way to express it: _we loved you so much that you didn't die._

When James is well enough to go home, and fitted with an awkward replacement; they come to stand beside Remus's bed and say goodbye.

"Goodbye for now." Lily says softly, and kisses his forehead. She lowers the baby to him, who pokes a pudgy finger up Remus's nose and is promptly withdrawn. Sirius hugs James tightly and is sure to mention the absolute spiffingness of the arm, which is flexible and durable, and can be made to open cans.

"Shut up, you nit." James tells him, but there is deep affection in his voice. They go home, and three remain.

Remus opens his eyes to Sirius's face.

"I love you." he says.

" _Christ_ , do I love you." Sirius drops his head and hands into Remus's chest, and mumbles incomprehensible things for a while. "You're my family." He adds. Remus feels nothing but relief.

Severus is nowhere to be found.

 

 

"There's going to be a lot of cleaning up." He says from the doorway, and Severus has his wand raised before he's even turned around. He sees that it is Remus, and his hands drop to his lap. "Some revenge too, most likely. It probably won't be safe for you for a while."

"Not for Sirius either." He turns back to his notebooks.

"Sirius is with James and Lily and Harry right now. He's going to be named godfather." Remus sits down beside him, which Severus pretends to ignore. "They can help each other."

"Oh yes ?" He shuts the notebook and gives Remus what is meant to be a cold stare. It fails a little, as he cannot keep from looking at Remus- his arms, his face, his hair- with a kind of grateful hunger. "So you're here what- to help me ?" 

"Don't be stupid." His hand is warm, and he runs it along Severus's hairline, letting it rest beneath his jaw. "You're helping me." 

He's often felt like a failure. He's often felt alone. He's often been afraid that the line he travels is too thin to bear his weight; he fears the fall and the landing, and what he'll do to the ones he loves. He fears that he will never be enough.

When they lean together he knows he's done some small things right.


End file.
